Inheritance

Chapter One Alice awoke early on her wedding day and, through her flimsy curtains, sensed stillness and brilliance, and knew that her mother's prayers had been answered. From the depths of the house she could hear the grumpy roar of hoovers sucking exhaustedly at already clean floors, and, outside her window, the discreet crunch of wheels over gravel as food and drink were delivered in enormous quantities. The dogs barked frantically each time, as if it were a novelty for them to see a van come down the drive. All eleven would have to be locked in the stables once guests started to appear. 'This is the last time I'll ever sleep in this room on my own,' Alice thought, and immediately pulled the quilt over her head. She loved her room. Set directly above the house's turreted porch, looking on to the long drive, it was like sleeping in the prow of a ship. It was also like being enclosed in a nest: a very cluttered one at present. After a moment she peeped out from under the quilt, as if she could scarcely believe what she was seeing. On every surface lay neatly folded piles of marvellous new clothes, layered with white tissue paper, to be packed at the last minute in her suitcases (which already contained jigsaw bases of unworn shoes). There were fresh cotton and lawn dresses for sunny days of expeditions and lunches, formal gowns for smart evenings in grand restaurants, confections of satin and lace for night. Alice was marrying well, and her trousseau reflected it. Her two outfits for todayher wedding dress and her pink going-away suithung, shrouded in more swags of wispy tissue, from padded hangers. 'As if they've had a chance to gather dust!' thought Alice with a nervous smile. She hadn't stood still and contemplated her life for three months. She'd lost a stone and a half and her wedding dress had had to be taken in twice. The first time she'd tried it on in the shop that was filled with dreams, she'd spilt over its bodice. In the mirror she'd seen a flushed and disbelieving self: a girl who'd lit a fuse. 'We wore ostrich feathers in our hair,' Felicity would tell her daughters, 'and trains. And, when my time came to curtsey, one of the gurkhas standing guard winked at me . . .' But by the time Alice left school at sixteen, the young monarch had done away with presentations at court, so, after her launch in virginal white at Queen Charlotte's Ball, she just went to all the parties. Though it was never spelt out for her, the idea, of course, was to find a husband. Neither parent encouraged her to have a career, whereas Eve easily got her wish to try for university. Alice was the pretty one, Eve the clever one. For them, it had always seemed as uncomplicated as that. Every young man Alice brought home was assessed as marriage material. Her father was unfailingly courteous, believing he hid his contempt for the boring ones; her mother watched her covertly, trying to divine her feelings. She never brought Marcus, but might as well have. She conveyed anguish and obsession mingled with a strange inner peace. She was more easily upset and even sweeter. Meanwhile her childhood friend Edward held her hand and listened, and waited for his moment. It was odd that nobody had anticipated he would carry off the prize of Alice, because, as heir to Mossbury Park (and a title), he was very eligible. He was amiable, too. His hair was always a little too short. He was the sort of man who arranged romantic evenings for beautiful girls, only to have them weep on his shoulder over someone else. One eveningunhappier than sheRDilke, Annabel is the author of 'Inheritance ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780312361518 and ISBN 0312361513.